


Shepard's Lambs

by ThreeWhiskeyLunch



Series: Madness Because The Reasons Don't Make Sense [9]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Commander Shepard's Birthday, M/M, N7 Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/pseuds/ThreeWhiskeyLunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months previously, Shepard had asked a favor of Garrus and Zaeed. Little did he realize when they agreed that he'd changed the lives of his two friends forever.</p>
<p>For the good, he now hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shepard's Lambs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potionsmaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/gifts).



> It occurs to me that I haven't written much Shepard, so for N7 day this year I thought I'd write a little about John Shepard from my Madness series. His background is Colonist/sole survivor and as such he's taken it upon himself to take care of every single orphan he can get his hands on after the war. And once the house he shares with Kaidan is full to the brim, he starts in on his friends, which is how Garrus and Zaeed end up with Paxton and Ingrid. He's created his own organization (“Shepard's Lambs”--yeah, I know) to find homes for children, no matter their race. Liara has also created for him an extensive search algorithm and extranet site as a resource for people looking for lost loved ones. He and Kaidan and their six children live in a house in Vancouver.
> 
> This takes place four months after Merry Christmas, Love Jessie
> 
> So...this is for potionsmaster because she is awesome and brave and unstoppable. And I love her dearly.

John watches as Kaidan mans the grill, flipping burgers and steaks on the levo grill and something called ‘aystre’ on the dextro grill, toggling between tongs with practiced ease. He leans on the deck railing, the tip of his beer bottle dangling from his fingers.  
  
“Steak is up if you like it rare!” Kaidan's voice carries down over the lawn where a baker’s dozen of children of all sorts screech and run over the soft spring grass.  
  
“That's me!” Grunt yells. He doesn’t bother putting the squirming Paxton down as he lumbers up the steps to the deck. “Can you cook this little Turian for me next? I hear they make good dessert.”  
  
John grins as an alarmed Garrus plucks Paxton away from the hot grill even as Grunt and Paxton giggle.  
  
“That kid’s gonna be the death of him. Pretty sure Pax’s signature will be on his heart attack.” John turns to see Zaeed leaning against the rail. Ingrid is in his arms, clutched tightly to him. He smirks and looks back at Zaeed’s mate and foster son who are inspecting the aystre on the grill.  
  
“He can handle it,” John says. “He married you.”  
  
Zaeed chuckles. “Did at that. For some reason I can't fathom.”  
  
John casts a look over at Garrus again and sees the pure affection written on his face when he catches a glimpse of Zaeed standing next to John. No one had been more surprised to find out about the two of them--discovering them making out in the bathroom of AfterLife no less--and no one could have been more pleased than himself about them being together. Somehow they make it work in spite of every odd thrown at them. It makes sense in a crazy sort of way. It makes more sense when he sees the love on Garrus’ face.  
  
The man shifts his grip on the small girl. She's snuggled to his chest, blond curls under his chin. Her jeans are both ripped at the knees and he can spy the white of bandages underneath.  
  
“She gonna be alright?”  
  
“Yeah. Hope you don't mind we helped ourselves to your medigel stash. Just scraped up her knees. She plays hard. Likes to keep up with the big dogs, right little duck?” What did he used to say? _Small dogs fight harder._  
  
Ingrid shrugs and buries her nose into his neck, which earns her a wry look from the man holding her.  
  
“That's what it's there for,” he says, speaking of the medigel. “Kaidan is threatening to have it shipped in in bulk we go through it so fast.”  
  
One of the children shrieks, and nearly everyone looks toward the lawn, gauging the level of emergency. Ingrid looks as well, watching as John’s Turian daughter, Hanla, twirls in circles, propelled by his son Owen. Ingrid pushes away from Zaeed’s embrace, making motions with her hands.  
  
“Yeah, alright. Just be careful.” Zaeed sets her down and she runs off, back to the lawn, stopping short next to the other two children. Owen grabs her hand and begins to twirl the two girls around him, tiny feet running as fast as possible.  
  
John blinks at Zaeed. “Did she just...sign?”  
  
Zaeed nods, twisting the top off a beer. “Got her started a couple months ago. Over three hundred words so far. Can’t hardly keep up with her now.”  
  
He blinks again, baffled that no one had thought of it sooner. Obviously they had all been too stuck on the reason for her not talking and not trying to figure out a way to give her a voice. The reality of it is that sign language is hardly used anymore. Technology has made it obsolete, what with surgical procedures that can fix nearly anything and VI’s that are able to take over in those small instances that it can’t. His face must reflect his look of shock because Zaeed shrugs.  
  
“My granddad used sign. Lost his voice in a chemical explosion. Didn’t know him well. Just had the idea it might work with our girl though. Got tired of playing twenty questions.”  
  
The affection in the older man’s voice isn’t lost on him. Nor is the possessive terminology. But he brushes that aside to say, “That’s just...brilliant, Zaeed.”  
  
He gets an eye roll in response. “Can’t shut her up now. Almost liked her better when she just nodded her head. Can’t imagine what she’ll be like when she remembers how to use her goddamn voice.”  
  
They lean on the railing, drinking from their beers and watching the kids on the lawn. Half of them are Shepard and Kaidan’s--they’d doubled their three since Christmas and had to build on another bedroom at the side of the house. He loves it. Loves having the kids around them, loves the excitement and adventure of keeping up with them all. It brings to mind his days on the _Normandy_ , and the herding of cats that had been his daily existence.  
  
“How’d you know?” Zaeed’s quiet question interrupts his thoughts and he turns to look at him. The man’s eyes are squinting against the low afternoon light, watching Ingrid with eagle eyes.  
  
He doesn’t have to ask what the man means. _How’d I know he’d take to the kids like fish to water?_ It’s another thing that doesn’t really make any sense. And yet, when he adds it all up, it fits as if it always should have. John remembers the talks he’d have with Zaeed down in the cargo hold, how his voice would go all soft when he’d dredge up a memory that involved children. How it didn’t really make any sense to him until that night the two of them had gone out drinking--some hole in the wall on Omega that Zaeed knew about--and the mercenary had drunkenly told him about his sister: how they’d lived, how she’d died.  
  
He remembers most clearly the shimmer of tears in the older man’s eyes and how John had looked away, not wanting to draw attention that he’d seen them. When he’d looked back a few minutes later, they were gone, brushed away by the calloused fingers of a man more used to shooting his problems than talking about them.  
  
It’s John’s turn to shrug. He could say all that and sound as if he knew for certain that it would work out, but if he’s honest with himself he really had just been following his instincts. Kaidan had told him he was out of his mind even thinking about it. Not that he doubted Garrus. But he did have more than enough reservations about the old mercenary for both of them put together. John had shrugged off his doubts. Yeah, maybe when he'd first joined up with Shepard he'd been out for himself. But the man had changed in the years he's known him. Maybe war had done that to him. Maybe Garrus had helped. Maybe Shepard himself had had some influence as well. He finds he doesn't really care why. In John’s book, everyone matters. Everyone counts. No one gets left behind. And no one is beyond hope.  
  
“I guessed,” he says. And that’s the truth of the matter. He acted and got lucky. Pretty much the story of his life when he got right down to it. Kaidan calls it his intuition. He just calls it following his gut.  
  
“You guessed.” Zaeed fixes him with a look that tells him he doesn’t believe him, that he knows the other man is holding something back. His eyebrows arch as if he’s about to argue the point, but then he sighs and shakes his head. “Bloody ballsy guess.”  
  
John huffs and finishes off his beer, grinning as he says, “I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I have a quad.”  
  
Zaeed snorts. “Yeah, you do at that.”  
  
“John!” Kaidan shouts to get his attention. “Burgers are up, birthday boy!”  
  
He waves over at his husband, grinning wider. “That’s me,” he says to Zaeed. He pushes up off the rail and grabs his cane.  
  
“That’s you.” Zaeed lifts his bottle in a toast. “Happy birthday, Shep.”  
  
He takes a few steps, leaning heavily on the cane, before Zaeed’s words stop him. “Hey, Shepard. Thanks.”  
  
He’s had to make a lot of tough calls in the last five years. Decisions that affected not only himself and his crew, but entire races and ultimately the whole galaxy. Decisions that he felt so unsure of at the time. Decisions he felt were unfair to saddle one person with. He’s regretted some of them--Ash and Mordin and EDI and the Geth flash through his mind in such quick succession it makes his heart stomp. But he has to believe that ultimately whatever he did was for the greater good, that they all would win out in the end. With or without him.  
  
He looks over his shoulder and nods. Someday he hopes to get a message from them asking about adoption. But for now, he’s pretty happy to think he might have gotten this guess right. As guesses go, he’s pretty sure it’s one of his best. It certainly was one of the easiest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
